Mission to New Mexico
by AustralianRanger012
Summary: Clint didn't want to be sent on this assignment. He would much rather stay in New York, and watch Natasha's back while she spied on/babysat the billionaire Tony Stark. He thought going with Coulson to the middle-of-nowhere New Mexico would be boring. He was very wrong. Thor movie tie-in. Clint's POV. *CSC Universe*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. If I did, than Clintasha would totally be canon. And they would be in every movie and have their own tv series. #Clintashaforever.**

 **I've finally finished my uni degree! hip-hip-hurray! To celebrate, here is another story from my Avengers-themed Universe for you to enjoy.**

 **To continue celebrating my new found freedom, I will also be posting a LOTR two-shot within the next day or two, so keep an eye out for that!**

 **And, happy coincidence, t** **his story arrives just in time to celebrate Thor: Ragnarok, hitting cinemas in a couple of weeks' time! Double, triple hurray!**

 **This two-shot is set in my Choices and Second Chances Universe. It is based off both the Thor movie, and the graphic novel, Fury's Big Week. I have changed things slightly, but it remains mostly faithful to the source material.**

 **Enjoy another bit of the CSC Universe! It's been a while.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1:**

Clint opened one eye when the car came to a stop.

"Are we there yet?"

Clint opened the other eye, and pulled one of his eye buds out, in time to hear the driver's door closing. Sitting up properly, Clint looked through the windscreen. What he saw made him freeze.

Holy shit.

What _was_ that thing?

Clint made it out of the car in record time, pausing only to grab his sunglasses. The glare of the New Mexican desert was unforgiving.

Coulson was standing just out of sight of the virtual circus that was going on below them. He was wearing his Bland Agent Look as he spoke into his phone, no doubt giving HQ an update. Clint wandered to the edge of the impression (thought calling it an impression was a vast understatement, it was a giant crater thank you very much) and just stared at the sight below him. Thanks to his exceptional eyesight, he could see the smallest details like they were situated less than a metre in front of him.

Wait, was that a _hammer_? What the hell was going on here?

Clint wished he knew the answer to that. But at this point, no one knew what was going on here. That was the precise question they'd come to answer. The reason he'd been pulled away from Natasha and sent to the middle-of-nowhere New Mexico.

Coulson hung up his phone, and came to join him.

"The rest of the crew will be here within two hours. We won't move in until backup arrives."

Clint just nodded. It made sense to wait. At the moment, they were heavily outnumbered. Still, Clint frowned at the scene below them.

"I just wish that I knew what was going on here. That object down there looks like a hammer, but..."

Coulson interrupted him.

"What do you mean, _a hammer_?"

"You know, the thing that you normally use to bang nails into wood. Though it does have other uses as well."

Coulson's expression clearly stated that he didn't appreciate Clint's sass right now.

"I know what a hammer is, smart-arse. Are you sure?"

Clint looked wounded.

"Coullllllsssssooon, you wound me. Hawk eye's, remember? I can see every little detail of what is happening down there. And the 0-8-4 certainly looks a lot like a hammer."

Coulson's bland expression didn't change, even as his eyes glinted before he put his own dark glasses back on and hid them from view.

"Well, that makes things that much more interesting."

* * *

Clint watched the scientist chick arguing with Coulson regarding him appropriating all her research, and grimaced in sympathy. He understood her frustrations. It would be tough to work on something for years, only to have all your hard work taken out from under your nose, without so much as a please, by a faceless government agency.

"Okay Mac, I think that's the last of it."

Clint moved out of the way to make room for the agents to carry the large crate out of the doorway. Once they were gone, seeing that the building was now empty, Clint wandered towards the truck and his handler. He hovered in the background and watched Coulson as the scientist continued to chew him out. It was rather amusing, up until Agent Delancey forcibly took a notebook from her hands. That was when things almost got ugly, as she tried to get it back. She almost received a dislocated shoulder for her efforts, when Delancey twisted her arm around behind her back.

Clint frowned. Delancey was a bit of a jerk, that was for sure. But, being ready to hurt an unarmed civilian, and a young female one at that, was taking things a tad far. Clint noticed the slight tightening of the skin around Coulson's eyes as he stopped them, and knew that Delancey would be reamed out for his actions later. Possibly even put on report, depending on how pissed-off and stressed Coulson was by then.

The conversation was apparently finished, as Coulson smiled his blandest smile at the science trio before jerking his head in Clint's general direction.

"Barton. Let's go."

Clint scrambled into the driver's seat of their truck and started the engine. A few seconds later, Coulson joined him.

Clint put the van into gear, and followed the rest of the convey back towards the crash site. Coulson didn't say anything, and Clint soon felt the need to break the awkward silence that had descended.

"I kind of feel bad for her you know. I understand her frustrations."

Coulson sighed as he finally glanced across at Clint.

"I know. But we don't have a choice. We don't know what we are dealing with here, and it could potentially be dangerous. For that reason, we can't take any chances with anything. I don't like it either, but it's the only thing we can do."

Clint scowled as the convey left the outskirts of Puerto Antiguo.

"It's still not fair on her."

Coulson slumped in his seat and run a weary hand over his brow. Since they were the only people in this vehicle, he had dropped the stoic mask he normally wore, allowing his frustrations to show.

"I know Clint, I know. And, if all goes well, when we have finished with it, she can have her research back. After we take complete and thorough copies of everything of course."

"Of course." Clint rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less from the mighty SHIELD."

Coulson ignored him, and a quick glance revealed his handler had closed his eyes at some point. Even though there was no way he was going to stop Phil from getting some much-needed rest while he could, Clint pouted slightly (just because he could) as they drove along in silence.

They were almost at the compound before Clint decided to speak again. He knew Phil was awake by now, thanks to his changed breathing patterns. After sharing the same room, and occasionally even the same bed, on missions for years, Clint was very attuned to knowing if Phil was awake, asleep, or faking it.

"So, what happens now, boss?"

Phil sighed as he opened his eyes fully and stared at nothing as he gathered his thoughts.

"Now, we set up all this equipment, and our own, in the temporary command centre that Sitwell should have had constructed by now. Then we let the scientists out to play, and wait to see what happens."

Clint nodded as he pulled into the temporary parking lot behind the rest of the vehicles.

"Maybe we should just wait and see if the alien that this hammer belongs to turns up."

Phil grimaced.

"I wish that you would stop calling it a hammer. It is currently listed as an 0-8-4; and is _possibly_ of extra-terrestrial origin. We haven't confirmed that yet, however."

Clint sighed as he rested his forearms on the steering wheel.

"Well, I just hope that this gets sorted out soon so that I can get back to Tasha. It's heading up to our sixth-year anniversary."

Now it was Phil's turn to sigh, as he placed a hand on the door handle, and prepared to go back to his position as base commander.

"I know. Trust me; I will never forget that mission. It was very memorable, even more so than Venice was."

* * *

 _That night._

Clint warmed up his third MRE as he listened to the thunder booming overhead. A particularly loud clap caused him to jump as his and Coulson's trailer shook like a leaf. Wow, this was shaping up to be some storm. It hadn't even started raining yet.

Clint sat on the top step of the trailer as he ate his meal, and watched the frenzy of activity that was going on over around the hammer sight. Much to Coulson's chagrin, while the object might be labelled an 0-8-4 in the official accounts, all the agents on sight were referring to it as 'the hammer'.

The pained look on his handler's face when the lead scientist had referred to it in that way, while babbling about the schematics of the thing, had been priceless. Clint had managed to snap a picture of it on his phone to show Natasha later. He'd have to show Coulson as well, after he'd made a copy of it. Always good to have a back-up, especially in case his handler confiscated his phone and deleted the image. He couldn't let that happen, as it would make great blackmail material for the next time they wanted Coulson to agree to something.

Clint's thoughts were interrupted by yet another huge rumble of thunder that made the whole desert shake, even as it started to rain. Agents ran around shouting at each other as everyone fumbled their way into weatherproof gear or went under cover. Clint was just thinking he should probably go and find Coulson to see what was happening, when his comm suddenly crackled to life.

"We've got something outside the fence. West side."

Clint grinned as he listened to Sitwell order Jackson and Delancey to check it out. Finally, he might get some action. About time, so far this had to one of the most boring mission's he'd ever been on. Which was saying something, given all the surveillance missions he'd done in his career with SHIELD.

Suddenly, all the alarms in the compound began to blare out, even as the hazard lights they'd installed all over Tent City (sadly, that nickname hadn't stuck) began to flash. Clint didn't have to wait long to know what had happened, as an unidentified voice crackled through his comm.

"Agent down, we have a perimeter breach. Repeat, we have a perimeter breach!"

It was suddenly organised chaos as agents began running everywhere, collecting guns from the armoury, and rushing to cover the compound. Clint was wondering what he should do, when his comm suddenly clicked over to the private channel he shared with Coulson. There were advantages to your personal handler being the site commander.

"Barton, do you copy?"

"I copy Overwatch. What do you want me to do?"

"Get ready. We don't know who we're dealing with here."

"Or what. Maybe it's the extra-terrestrials come to reclaim their 0-8-4."

Coulson's sigh could be clearly heard over their private comm line.

"Just stay alert. If things get ugly, I want you to cover the object."

"Rodger that. Heading to the armoury now. Barton out."

Clint ran over to the trailer that was serving as their onsite armoury. He had just reached it, and ducked in out of the rain (belatedly realising he should have grabbed his waterproofs), when his comm crackled again.

"I need eyes up high, with a gun. NOW. Suspect has just entered the South-west tunnel, and is making tracks towards the object. Barton, you know what to do."

"Rodger that, Overwatch."

Clint went to grab one of the standard issue rifles. But, before he could lift it, he spied a compound bow sitting just above it on the rack.

Clint grinned. Forget the rifle, there was no way he was using one if he didn't have to.

His left shoulder was healed enough from the sprain he'd sustained four weeks previously, that he would be able to use the bow without compromising his shoulder. Compounds required less effort to draw than the recurve he normally used. And, if he used his right hand to draw the arrow, there would be even less strain on his healing shoulder.

Without wasting any more time, Clint grabbed the bow, stopping only to grab a handful of arrows (he probably only needed one as _he didn't miss_ , but there was no telling how many intruders there were, or how many he would need to slow him down) before he raced out into the storm again. Clint headed towards the basket that, when raised by the crane, would give him a perfect view of the hammer and its immediate vicinity. Earlier on, when they had been discussing what to do when something like this happened, Coulson had made it clear that Clint's primary job would be to protect the 0-8-4.

As the crane ascended, Clint looked down on the activities below him. He was just in time to see one of the field agents come flying through the plastic side of the tunnel and land on the ground outside. Wow, whoever they were dealing with was sure putting up a fight. He appeared to be downing trained agents like they were nothing more than ten pins. Just as the basket reached the perfect position, directly over the top of the object, Clint's comm came to life again.

"Barton, talk to me."

Clint smirked down at the scene unfolding below him as he drew the bow.

"You want me to slow him down, sir? Or are you sending in more guys for him to beat up?"

There was a momentary pause.

"I'll let you know."

Clint kept the bow drawn (as it was a compound, it wasn't as hard to keep it drawn as one might think) as he watched the scene below him like a hawk, waiting for _something_ to happen. He didn't have to wait long.

The intruder was almost to the object. Clint was just about to ask Coulson if he wanted the guy shot yet, when Tank suddenly came out of seemingly nowhere and stood in front of the guy, blocking his path to the hammer. Clint scowled. He didn't like Tank. The guy had too much muscle, and none of it was located in his head.

Clint was starting to get annoyed at Coulson for bringing in a guy whose speciality was knocking people on the head, when Clint had the perfect shot to end this once and for all. Clint knew that he could slow the intruder down with one well-placed arrow just as easily as Tank could punch him. It would be faster as well.

Hey, it didn't even need to kill him. Arrows through one's knee-caps was generally a pretty effective way of slowing them down.

However, as Clint watched the intruder match Tank blow for blow as they rolled around in the mud outside the tunnels, he started to feel that this intruder might not be so bad. Tank was an idiot. All he was good for was punching someone, or insulting people. Clint still harboured a grudge against the guy for the way he'd insulted Natasha once, after she'd told him point blank to piss off and leave her alone. He'd been shown the error of his ways; they'd both made sure of that. Clint was possessive and protective of what was his, and Tash definitely fitted into that category.

She was his, in the same way that he was hers.

Clint watched with more than a hint of vicious pleasure as their intruder quite literally beat Tank into the ground. Whoever this guy was, Clint was seriously starting to like him.

However, as the intruder approached the hammer, Clint decided that he probably should check in with Coulson. He'd told Clint that he'd let him know when he wanted the guy shot, but Clint hadn't heard anything since.

"You'd better call it Coulson. 'Cause I'm starting to root for this guy."

Hey, this guy had just knocked out Tank. Clint was feeling very friendly towards him right now.

However, as the guy approached the hammer and Coulson remained silent, Clint knew he had to do something.

"Last chance sir."

Clint drew back the string on his bow a little more, as he waited for Coulson to reply.

"Wait. I want to see this."

Clint sighed, but obediently waited and watched as the intruder put his hands on the handle of the hammer, and tried to lift it. Clint wasn't surprised when it didn't shift. Nothing they'd tried had made that thing budge. It was like it was cemented into the core of the earth.

However, Clint was not prepared for what happened next.

When he found he couldn't lift it, the guy looked to the sky and _howled_. There was no other way to describe the noise he was making. Clint watched in stunned shock as the hulking blond giant who'd just taken down a base full of highly trained SHIELD agents without even breaking a sweat, dropped to his knees next to the hammer and howled like a baby.

Clint was so focused on the scene below him, that Coulson's voice in his ear actually made him start.

"Alright, show's over. Ground units, move in."

Well, it would seem that was it then.

Clint lowered his bow, just as a sudden movement over the other side of the compound caught his eye. He wasn't called Hawkeye for nothing after all. Blinking to clear the rain from his eyelashes, Clint frowned as he watched a slim figure run towards a car that was parked just out of sight of the compound. As the person looked back over their shoulder, Clint recognised them with a start.

It was the scientist chick from this morning, the one whose research SHIELD had 'borrowed'.

Well, this made things more interesting.

As the girl jumped into her car and sped away, Clint focused his attention back on the scene below him. As soon as Coulson had given the word, agents had swarmed over the now still man. They'd wasted no time in securing him with the brand-new magnetic cuffs that SHIELD had recently developed. They were supposed to be un-pickable and stronger than steel.

As they marched him off to the brig for interrogation, and the crane started to descend, Clint thought over what had just happened.

Clint was pretty sure that they wouldn't get anything useful out of the guy they'd just arrested. Alien or mercenary, if he knew anything, he wasn't going to talk. Clint had had a lot of experience with mercenaries, both before SHIELD and after he'd joined. Hey, he'd even been one himself once. And if that experience had taught him anything, it was that the good ones generally didn't break easily. And their intruder was definitely one of the good ones.

And no amount of promises or pain would cause that kind of guy to give up information if he didn't want to.

And, if he really was an alien or not from around here, then who knew how much he could take before he broke.

Either way, Coulson was going to have to think up something really smart if he wanted to get _anything_ useful from that guy before the next decade.

* * *

By the time Clint had put his bow away and made it into command central, Coulson was already interrogating the guy. Not wanting to disturb things just yet, Clint hung back and watched the happenings in the brig through the one-way mirror.

Just as he'd though, the guy wasn't saying anything. He wasn't doing anything either. He just sat there, looked at Coulson with a distant expression. Or rather, looked at nothing with a distant expression. Clint could tell Coulson was getting frustrated. It was barely noticeable, but Clint hadn't worked with Coulson as his handler for years for nothing. He knew Coulson's facial expressions and mannerisms better than he knew his own.

Clint wandered closer to the brig, keeping an eye on what was happening in case Coulson needed backup. As he passed one of the tables they'd set up with the possessions they'd seized from the scientists this morning, one item sitting there made Clint pause.

That was sacrilege.

The slightly scruffy but beautifully maintained iPod that was lying on top of a bunch of papers where someone had carelessly dumped it was obviously well-loved. And it had obviously been taken in the raid.

Seriously, what information did they expect to find on an iPod?

Looking around quickly to make sure that no one was paying him any attention, Clint slipped the small item into his jacket pocket before wandering away from the table.

Clint would literally kill anyone who even _tried_ to take his own iPod away from him. Even after all his years spent with SHIELD, Clint still didn't have many personal possessions. Those few things he did have, he treasured greatly. Clint didn't know who owned this iPod, but he intended to get it back to them safely.

He wasn't sure how, but that didn't deter Clint. He'd find a way. He always did.

Clint wandered even closer to the brig as he continued to watch the stalemate that Coulson and their intruder were currently locked in. It was entertaining, but Clint decided that he needed to let Coulson know what he'd seen out there sooner rather than later. Surely it couldn't hurt them to take a short break.

Clint sent Coulson a quick text message, and watched as his handler pulled the phone out of his trouser pocket and checked it. After a moment, the door popped opened and Phil stepped out. He shut the door carefully before heading over to where Clint was standing.

Clint grinned at Phil's annoyed expression.

"He's not talking, is he?"

Coulson huffed.

"Not yet. Give me time."

Clint grinned even more.

"Something tells me he's not gonna break, no matter how much time he's given. I reckon he could survive torture for months, and still not give you anything. Questioning him is a waste of time."

Coulson looked towards the room, and their intruder, and sighed.

"You might be right. Do you have any better ideas?"

"Yeh. Cut him loose."

Coulson stared at Clint like he'd lost his reason.

"That guy just waltzed into a highly secure SHIELD compound and took down more than half of our trained agents without breaking a sweat. We've only just subdued him, and gotten him into custody. You are seriously suggesting that we let him walk? Just like that?"

"Yes, I am."

Clint held up his hand to stop Coulson from talking and continued.

"Don't forget, I had eyes on the whole scene. Just after you shackled 'im, I saw that scientist-chick from this morning run back towards her car and take off. The guy had to get out here somehow, we're miles from civilisation. Logic suggests that she gave him a lift, and hung around to see what would happen. When it went bad, she was about as subtle in getting away as he was in getting in."

Coulson was starting to look interested.

"So, what do you suggest?"

Clint shrugged.

"This guy might be a pro, but the people he's mixed up with don't have a clue what's going on either. No one seems to know what's going on here, expect that guy. And he's not talking. You want Intel on him? Cut him loose and give him a tail. That's my advice."

Coulson looked thoughtful.

"That's not a bad idea, actually. What we are currently doing certainly isn't getting us anywhere fast. I hadn't thought of it that way before."

Clint shrugged indifferently, but was secretly pleased.

"You know me sir. I see things that no one else does. It's why you keep me on the payroll."

Coulson looked even more thoughtful as they watched their prisoner go back to staring at nothing.

"I'll certainly think on what you've said. But right now, I've got work to do. Don't go far."

Clint plonked himself down in a chair that someone had just vacated, and spun it around to face the brig.

"I don't plan on going anywhere just yet boss. I want to see what happens here."

As Clint watched Coulson go back into the interrogation room, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly started tingling, and he got an uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. Clint turned around to try and figure out who was watching him. As far as he could see, no one was paying him any mind. After a few moments, the feeling went away as suddenly as it had arrived. Clint was left feeling vaguely uneasy, and wondering what the hell had just happened.

It was yet one more thing to add to the list of things that didn't make sense in this mess.

* * *

Clint hung back in the shadows, and watched as the scientist guy from this morning (Erik Selvig, his brain helpfully supplied. He'd seen the file that Coulson had on him) tried to convince the Agent that the intruder was called Donald Blake, and that he was an astrophysicist. A very likely story. Clint didn't believe a word of it, and he knew Coulson didn't either. He was just playing along to see what happened.

It soon became apparent that Coulson was taking Clint's earlier advice, and cutting their prisoner loose. Selvig was escorted to the brig, and allowed to take the guy away with him. As soon as they were out of normal hearing range, Coulson turned to Clint.

"I hope that this idea of yours works."

Clint shrugged.

"It can't hurt, can it?"

"I guess we'll see about that."

Coulson went to the doorway, and raised his voice.

"Doctor Selvig."

The pair paused, but didn't turn around.

"Just keep him away from the bars."

"I will."

That promise was likely as true as everything else Selvig had said to them in the past hour. Coulson watched the pair walking away from them with a small frown.

"Follow them."

Clint was the only one within earshot, so he came forward to stand beside his handler.

"Are you talking to me, sir?"

Coulson turned his head to look at him.

"Yes. I want you to tail them back to town and watch them, but keep a low profile. I'll send someone out to relieve you in a few hours. Take the bike. It's less conspicuous than a car would be, especially if you drive without lights."

Clint grinned.

"Sir, yes sir. I knew bringing it would come in handy."

The slight droop in Coulson's shoulders was the only thing that betrayed his weariness. When he spoke, there was no trace of it in his voice.

"Just go Barton. Keep the comm open on our private channel, and report anything suspicious back to me directly. Hopefully this idea of yours works, and we'll finally get some Intel on what we're dealing with here."

* * *

Clint grinned as he watched Selvig and 'Donald' go into the pub. So much for keeping him away from the bars. Not that Clint was going to stop them having a drink or two. He was their tail, not their keeper.

Besides, them having a heart-to-heart at a bar made Clint's job a lot easier.

So long as Clint didn't do anything to draw unnecessary attention to himself, a bar was the perfect place to observe someone while remaining virtually invisible.

Clint slipped inside the building, and quickly took in the scene. It didn't take him long to spot Selvig and their intruder. They were sitting at the bar, having drinks and talking about their feelings. After a few minutes of eavesdropping, Clint didn't bother listening in anymore. They weren't talking about anything helpful, and he did not feel like listening to 'Donald' lament about how bad his life was. The guy had one argument with his daddy, and suddenly his world was ending. Yeh, Clint had better things to do then listen to _that_.

That being said, he'd better find something to do if he didn't want to stand out. Having a drink was out of the question. Clint didn't drink much, a consequence of growing up with an abusive drunk for a father. When he did drink, it was either essential for his cover, or he was with people he trusted. And, even then, he never had more than one or two drinks, and he never drank beer. Thankfully, the smell of it didn't trigger flashbacks anymore. But Clint couldn't bring himself to drink the thing that had caused his father to be so abusive towards him, Barney and their mom so long ago.

Clint saw a group of men laugh and slap each other on the back as they left the pool table. Clint grinned. The table was currently not being used, and Clint saw a nice little game of pool all by himself as being the perfect way to blend in. He'd just have to make sure that he wasn't _too_ good at it. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. He could cream anyone in a game of pool, though Natasha and Phil were pretty damn good at it as well.

Clint kept on eye on Selvig and 'Donald' (he didn't have any other name for the guy right now) and privately thought to himself that they were drinking way too much alcohol. Donald seemed sober enough, but Selvig was obviously starting to get a bit tipsy by their third round. Clint sighed to himself as he finished his second game of pool, sinking the black ball with a flick of his wrist. He hoped that things didn't escalate into a bar-fight. He didn't know how he would explain that to Coulson.

Thankfully, they left the bar before anything bad happened. Clint followed them discretely, leaving a bit of distance between them so it wouldn't be obvious what he was doing. He watched as they both staggered along, holding onto each other and singing and dancing their way drunkenly down the street. Clint had a brief moment of panic when they stopped near the 7-Eleven. He hoped that they weren't going to try anything stupid; he'd seen people who were generally more sensible than he was sober do dumb things when drunk.

Thankfully, they'd simply stopped to have a dance on the sidewalk. It was very comical. Clint chortled to himself as he watched, wishing that he was close enough to film what was happening. This was almost as priceless as the photograph he had snapped of Coulson and his pained expression earlier.

Clint watched as an evening of heavy drinking suddenly caught up with Selvig. He tried to high-five Donald and missed by a mile, ending up passed out cold on the ground. That didn't seem to bother his companion, who cheerfully picked Selvig up and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, before heading off again.

Clint followed him, wondering where they were going. He didn't have to wonder for long. 'Donald' led him straight to the scientist-chicks trailer (sorry, Jane Foster's trailer, he hadn't had much to do while Coulson had been interrogating the guy), and knocked on the door. It was a few moments before the door opened, and he was admitted. Clint made a mental note of the time for the report that he would have to write later, and sighed to himself. What was he supposed to do now?

Thankfully for Clint, they didn't stay in there for long. Within five minutes, Donald and Foster came out and headed up to the roof of the workshop. Clint climbed onto the roof of the building on the other side of the street and hid in the shadows while he observed them. They didn't seem to be doing anything of interest, just talking. Clint got the gist of what they were saying thanks to his lip-reading skills, but as far as he could tell nothing they said was of interest to him. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

Clint watched the pair for a while longer. He started when Donald pulled out the notebook that Delancey had forcibly taken from Foster this morning. When had he had time to grab that? Man, that guy was good. Coulson would probably shit bricks when he found that gone, but Clint wasn't about to tell him what had happened to it. Especially not when he had a stolen iPod hidden in his own jacket pocket. An iPod that he intended to return to its rightful owner without official approval. The only problem was he didn't know which of the science-trio it belonged to.

He didn't think that it was Selvig's. The iPod was purple with pink ear buds. It didn't strike Clint as being the kind of thing that Selvig would go for. Seeing that the couple over on the other roof weren't doing anything noteworthy right now, Clint pulled the iPod from his pocket and examined it. He hoped that he might find a clue as to which girl it belonged to.

Finding nothing on the outside, he turned it on.

As the screen lit up, big letters caught Clint's eye.

PROPERTY OF DARCY LEWIS. HANDS OFF MY IPOD OR ELSE I WILL TASE YOU.

After seeing that, Clint wasn't surprised to find that the small device was password protected. Still, he had a name now.

He knew the scientist was called Jane Foster, which meant that the other girl must be Darcy Lewis. Therefore, it must be her iPod. Clint really hoped that Coulson would send someone to relieve him soon, so that he could go and find this Darcy Lewis and return her property. He'd already been tailing Selvig and co. for almost six hours, with regular, if vague, updates to Coulson. Surely they'd send someone to take over soon.

It was almost six and a half hours since he'd left base before Clint's comm crackled to life.

"Barton, you still there?"

"Yes, Overwatch. Nothing has changed since my last check-in. Are you sending someone to relieve me soon?"

There was a rather long pause that caused Clint to hold his breath. He suddenly dreaded the answer. He had been border-line insubordinate to Coulson earlier on after all. It was quite possible that his handler would make him pull an all-nighter as punishment. It had happened before.

"Yes."

The tension in Clint's shoulders immediately eased.

"Great. How long until they arrive?"

"Probably about half-an-hour. Once they're there, you can come back to camp. I need to fill you in on what has happened since you left."

Clint sighed.

"Great. Can't wait. Just one question. When do I get to sleep?"

"When you come back to camp, after debriefing, you can have a few hours of shut-eye. Also, have you happened to see the black notebook that was lying on the table just outside? We seem to have lost it, and it had some things in it that we needed to take copies of. Selvig didn't take it or anything?"

"No, he didn't take it. At least, I didn't see him with it."

Clint could answer that question very truthfully. Selvig hadn't taken it, it had been Donald. Not that Clint planned on volunteering that information. He just hoped that Coulson didn't ask any more difficult questions. He'd always found it hard to lie outright to Coulson. Every time he did, his handler somehow made him feel like Clint had let him down by lying to him. Whether Coulson was aware it was a lie or not didn't matter. The feeling was still there.

Coulson sighed. To Clint's relief, he didn't ask any more awkward questions.

"It must be here somewhere then; we'll find it. Anyway, Jackson and Kelly will be there in half-an-hour or so. See you when you get back. Coulson out."

"Rodger that. Hawkeye out."

Clint put the iPod back in his pocket, and went back to observing the couple over on the roof. Once the other agents arrived, Clint would go and find Darcy Lewis. It shouldn't be that hard to locate her. It was only a small town after all.

* * *

 **Kudos to anyone who spotted the Loki cameo. For those who didn't, leave me a review and I'll tell you where it is in PM. *not so subtle bribery* Or just leave me a review because you enjoyed the story! That works as well. Either way, reviews make Plot Bunnies happy, and when they are happy, we get more stories from them!**

 **Part 2 will be up within the next few days. Lots of reviews, and it will be up even sooner. *hint, hint***


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. If I did, than Clintasha would totally be canon. And they would be in every movie and have their own tv series. #Clintashaforever.**

 **Thankyou forsakenfoxshadow, for your review of chapter one. It means a lot to me.**

 **More notes at the end. Please read them, they are important.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2:**

Clint knocked on the door of the trailer belonging to Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster's assistant. When he received no answer, he knocked again.

"Hallo, anyone in? I've got your iPod. I thought..."

Clint never got to finish that thought.

The door suddenly flew open, almost sending him flying off the step. Clint just had time to register the tall, dark-haired figure standing there before a white-hot pain encompassed his whole body. Clint immediately dropped to the ground like a stone, and lay there groaning.

That damn girl had tased him! That thought caused Clint to glare up at her, even if he wasn't capable of speech just yet. Darcy Lewis was standing over him with her arms crossed and a glare firmly in place. Clint made a note that she was still holding her taser.

"What do you know about my iPod, Government Goon?"

The SHIELD shrinks would definitely be even more concerned for his sanity then they already were if Clint ever told them that the insult offended him worse than being tased had. Clint had, rather unfortunately, built up a tolerance to been tased. He had not built up a tolerance to insults. Yes, he did work for the government. No, he was not a goon. Far from it. He was _the_ best marksman in SHIELD, not to mention the world, and Strike Team Delta was _the_ top strike team.

At least, it had been until recently.

"I'm not a goon."

Clint was please when he found that he could speak again. The girl just continued to glower down at him. Clint suddenly got the feeling that her and Natasha would get along like a house on fire, and made a mental note to never introduce them. He liked the world the way it was.

"Prove it."

Clint tried to move his limbs, and found to his relief that they were starting to work. Clint slowly sat up, and put on a glare of his own, as he looked at Lewis.

"I'm here to return your iPod. It's in my jacket pocket. I just hope that it still works after being zapped with electricity."

Darcy immediately stalked towards where Clint was sitting on the ground.

"Give it to me. Quickly. Or I'll tase you again."

Clint put his hand into his pocket and removed the small device. He held it out to Darcy, who snatched it from his hand and turned it on. She didn't say anything, and Clint just sat there, recovering. The voltage had been set pretty high.

"Why would you return this to me?"

Clint looked up at Darcy.

"Because what SHIELD did wasn't fair. I know that, you know that, and Coulson knows that to."

Darcy frowned.

"Who is Coulson?"

Clint slowly stood up.

"Coulson is the guy who spoke to Foster yesterday morning. He is also my boss and handler, and has been for a long time. He hated having to take your research, but he didn't have a choice in the matter. We don't know what we're dealing with here, and he needed all your research to try and figure that out. The security of the planet is potentially at risk here. We need all the information on what is happening that we can get."

Darcy was still frowning as she glanced at the iPod, and then back at Clint.

"Okayyyyy, but still, why would you return my iPod?"

"Because I don't agree with a lot of what SHIELD does, and taking someone's music isn't right. I guard my own iPod like a dragon guards its treasure. If someone took that without so much as a please, I would probably shoot them full of arrows."

Darcy cocked her head.

"Are you an archer?"

Clint nodded with a grin as he gave a mock bow.

"I am. Agent Clint Barton, AKA Hawkeye, the World's Greatest Marksman, at your service ma'am."

Darcy giggled.

"You are nuts. Or possibly just purely insane. I haven't decided yet."

Clint shrugged.

"Yeh well, some people have known me for a good ten years and still can't decide which one I am. I like to think that I am the best of both."

Darcy looked between the iPod, her taser, and Clint, and frowned.

"How come this didn't knock you out? I used it on Thor, and he was out like a light."

Clint's eyebrows come together.

"That's his name? Thor? But Selvig called him Donald Blake."

Darcy waved her hand dismissively.

"Yeh, that was my doing. But seriously, that guy claims to be a god. How come this didn't knock you out?"

Clint lent against the side of her trailer. He was still feeling a bit shaky.

"It didn't knock me out because I have a very high pain tolerance, and have been tased more times in my life than is probably healthy. Heck, even _Coulson_ has tased me on occasion. Believe me, I've had worse."

Darcy was still looking at him wide-eyed.

"Do I want to know?"

Clint shook his head.

"No. Better that you don't ask. It's not pretty."

Darcy looked away.

"Sorry for tasing you. It's my default response. I heard the word 'iPod' and lost my reason. Thank you. For bringing it back. I highly doubt you are doing it with the boss's compliments."

Clint winced as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Um, yeh, about that. Don't mention it to anyone, ok? It'll be better for both of us that way. It'll be better if you don't mention anything to your companions either. Deal?"

Darcy looked a bit guilty as she hugged her iPod.

"Deal. I won't say anything to anyone. Will that make up for tasing you?"

Clint looked thoughtful.

"Almost. What about you tell me more about this 'Thor' and we call it even?"

Darcy shrugged her shoulders.

"There's not much more to tell. He arrived here early yesterday morning, like super early, and I hit him with the car. By the way, it was totally Jane's fault. He didn't appear to be hurt, but started acting weird, so I tased him. He was freaking me out. We put him in the car and took him to the hospital. Things have only gotten crazier from there on. He says his name is Thor, and that he comes from a place called Asgard, in another realm. He seems to think that he is a god. And he was looking for something called Mewl-Mewl. Coincidently, Thor is the name of a deity in Norse mythology, and Asgard is where he lives. Mewl-Mewl is a hammer that the mythical Thor owns."

Clint was staring at her, open-mouthed.

"Shit. Did you just say Thor owns a _hammer_?"

Darcy shrugged.

"According to a children's book of myths Selvig found in the local library, yes. The Viking god Thor uses a magical hammer to 'smite his foes'. Why?"

Clint looked dazed.

"Hell, I have to talk to Coulson. We thought that we were dealing with aliens, not _gods_!"

"Why can't they be both? An alien is someone not from earth, right? So, a god from another planet could technically be classed as both."

Clint looked at her in admiration.

"I like you."

Darcy held up her taser, and Clint backed away slowly.

"Not like that, Nat would kill me. I like the way that you think."

Darcy lowered the taser. Clint sighed in relief. She looked extremely pleased.

"Really?"

Clint nodded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. They were getting a bit chilly.

"Yeh. Anything else you can tell me?"

Darcy's eyes narrowed a fraction.

"Yes, but I'm not going to. You still work for the people who took all our stuff. Returning my iPod has scored you some brownie points, which is why I've told you as much as I have. But that's all you're getting. And you can let all your friends know that if anyone comes looking, my taser is always charged and within easy reach. I have no qualms about tasing creepy government agents. You've been warned."

Clint glared at her.

"It's a bit late for that."

Darcy looked unrepentant.

"I've said that I am sorry, and gave you some information as an apology. What more do you want?"

Clint sighed.

"I just want to know what this all means. What the hell is happening here?"

Darcy rolled her eyes.

"Believe me; I think that we all would like to know the answer to that."

Clint sighed wearily. It _had_ been a long night after all.

"No shit. I'd better be going."

Darcy shut her trailer door as Clint slipped off into the shadows, making his way back to where he'd parked his bike.

It had certainly been an interesting evening out.

* * *

Coulson had told him that he wanted a de-brief; but when Clint got back to camp, his handler didn't have time to do it straight away. In fact, Clint couldn't actually find Coulson, and no one seemed to know where he was.

When he'd realised that, Clint went to their trailer and collapsing on the lower bunk. Normally he liked the top, but climbing the ladder sounded like a lot of work right now. And he really was too comfortable to move. He didn't even bother to take off his boots, instead performing a face-plant into the pillow fully clothed. He was obviously more tired than he'd thought, because he was out like a light.

He was brought out of pleasant oblivion sometime later by someone banging on his trailer door.

"Agent Barton, are you in there? Open up, damnit!"

Clint groaned as he rolled out of bed and opened the door. The door wasn't even fully opened before the agent on the other side started talking.

"There's activity in town. Coulson wants you there. He's already on his way. He sent orders that you are to meet him there."

Clint rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He noticed that the sun was already up, and wondered vaguely what time it was.

"What's happening?"

The other agent shook his head.

"We don't know. There was a massive energy reading came through on our equipment not very long ago. Commander Coulson and several others went to check it out. Less than a minute ago, another energy reading came through in the same place. I don't know what happened, but they've just requested a medical team be sent over to that location. Coulson requested that you meet him in town."

Clint was immediately on alert as he followed the young agent towards the motor pool.

"Who's hurt?"

"We don't know. The call came in less than two minutes ago. Our agents in town have gone quiet. We're effectively blind. Here, you'll need these."

The young agent held out Clint's compound bow and his quiver of arrows. Clint nodded his thanks as he strapped the quiver on his back and placed the bow on the special hook he'd had installed on his bike for that very purpose.

Clint didn't waste any more time, jumping onto his bike and skidding away in a cloud of dust. The agents guarding the gate saw him coming and waved him on. They'd obviously received the same message.

As Clint drew closer to town, he noticed a weird cloud that seemed to be hanging over the place. It wasn't until he was less than ten miles out that he realised that it was smoke.

The town was quite literally on fire!

Clint put his foot on the accelerator, and the bike increased its speed without effort. As Clint skidded to a halt on the outskirts of town, the smoke and debris was so thick that even he couldn't see anything. Clint wasn't sure what he should do. He didn't want to just rush in without knowing what he was rushing into. Despite what people said, he did have _some_ self-preservation instincts.

Just then the smoke cleared for a few seconds, but that was all the time that Clint needed to see what was happening.

Holy shit. What the hell was _THAT_?

It looked like a giant Iron Man suit, only emphasis on the word 'giant'. Clint sat there on the bike and watched, his mouth hanging open, as people dressed in clothes that looked like they'd come out of the Middle Ages fought the giant metal monster. It didn't seem to be doing any good. The only thing it seemed to do was make the thing madder.

After seeing what the monster could do, it was obvious to Clint that his arrows would be useless against it. If these people were truly gods as Thor claimed he was (and it seemed more and more likely), what hope did Clint have of taking it down if they couldn't?

Clint hid the bike and ran down the street, dodging falling bits of debris and jumping over small fires. When he reached the corner near the 7-Eleven where Selvig and Thor had done their drunken dance last night, Clint judged that he'd gotten close enough.

He had no wish to be seen by that thing.

Clint peered carefully around the corner, prepared to duck around and run if the _thing_ looked like it was coming after him. He wasn't a coward, but it wasn't smart to pick a fight that you had a below zero chance of winning.

Thankfully, the metal monolith had its back facing Clint. It was currently walked very purposefully towards Thor, who was walking forward to meet it. Clint watched, frozen in place, as Thor spoke to it. He didn't know what the other man said, but whatever it was mustn't have pleased the thing. It went to turn away, before suddenly turning back and punching Thor with all its might.

Thor went flying, and landed on the concrete a good twenty metres away with enough impact to shatter every bone in the human body. Foster screamed and run towards him, even as the monster turned away from the downed man. Clint quickly ducked behind cover as the monster turned in his direction. He was now more sure than ever that he did not want to be seen by that thing.

Clint made it onto the roof of the nearest building in record time, and looked down at the scene below with a lump in his throat. He knew the guy was dead. There was no way any person could survive that. Clint didn't even know if a god, as this man claimed to be, could survive that.

Death was nothing new to Clint. He was an _assassin_ for pete's sakes. However, that didn't mean that he enjoyed death. He didn't. And Clint had been starting to genuinely like Thor, or Donald, or whatever he chose to call himself. The other man probably didn't know that he existed, but Clint couldn't help but wish that they'd had time to meet properly. Well, it was too late now.

Clint wasn't so focussed on the scene below him that he forgot to watch his back, and a flash of movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Clint turned around and watched as something came barrelling out of the sky towards the town at a breakneck speed. It was going so fast that Clint couldn't even tell what it was. However, as it flew past the roof he was crouched on, Clint realised with a start that it was the hammer from the crash site.

Just when he thought that his day couldn't get any weirder, Clint was proved wrong. The street below him suddenly disappeared in a blinding white flash. Clint was momentarily blinded and stumbled backwards, almost falling off the roof before his vision recovered enough for him to see.

Holy shit. Was that _armour_? And a _cape_? What the hell? As Thor/Donald Blake started swinging the hammer and creating a hurricane, Clint decided he had to move.

Now, before he got caught up in the storm that Thor was quite literally cooking up.

He managed to make it off the roof and run into an alley out of range of the wind created by the hurricane just in time. From his new hiding place, Clint watched open-mouthed as Thor literally hammered into the metal goliath, and defeated it. In the process the god (there was no doubts in Clint's mind now that this man wasn't superhuman in some way, and by this point Clint was more than prepared to accept the fact that he was likely from another planet altogether) creating a shockwave that Clint was sure would have been felt for miles.

And then the cloud dissipated, and Thor walked out of it without a scratch on him. Clint was still trying to process what he'd just seen, and so was taken by surprise when he heard Coulson's voice.

"Excuse me."

Clint quickly came out into the open in case it was him his handler was talking to. It wasn't. He was directing his words at Thor, who looked every inch a god.

"Donald. I don't think that you've been completely honest with me."

Coulson actually sounded hurt. That's right, he didn't know about the whole claiming to be a god thing. Clint had meant to tell him, but hadn't been able to find him last night before he'd collapsed on his bunk.

Clint walked towards the group as Thor started speaking.

"Know this, Son of Coul. You and I, we fight for the same cause, the protection of this world. From this day forward, you can count me as your alley. If," Thor walked over to Foster and rested his hand protectively on her back, "You return the items that you have taken from Jane."

Heck. When did they get to a first name basis?

"Stolen."

"Borrowed."

Clint couldn't help the snort of laugher that escaped. He just hoped that Coulson hadn't heard. The man already looked like every word he said physically pained him.

"Of course, you can have your equipment back. You're going to need it to continue your research."

Clint had almost reached them by this point, and so was close enough to hear that Thor said to Jane.

"Would you like to see the bridge we spoke off?"

Foster shrugged.

"Sure?"

It sounded more like a question to Clint, but Thor seemed to take it as a yes. Before anyone in the circle had fully registered what was happening, Thor had pulled Jane closer to him and taken off. Literally. They went straight up into the sky.

"Wait! I need to debrief you!"

Clint chuckled at the look on Coulson's face as they disappeared.

"I don't think they're listening to you, boss."

Coulson turned around, and glared at Clint.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Clint eyed Coulson's dusty and crinkled suit, and slightly dusty and disarrayed hair, and raised an eyebrow.

"I could ask you the same question."

Coulson's didn't have time to reply before Sitwell joined them. His suit was dustier than Coulson's, and more creased. Clint wondered how much their dry-cleaning bill would be this time around.

"Do you want us to follow them, boss?"

Coulson sighed. Clint noticed that, while they'd been talking, the other four gods, Selvig, and Darcy had disappeared.

"No, I don't know that it will do us any good. Just leave them. We have bigger problems to deal with. Like cleaning up this town, and trying to pass this whole event off as a freak of nature."

Sitwell nodded.

"I'm on it boss."

Sitwell wandered off, issuing orders and instructions into his walky-talky. Clint and Coulson were left standing there in the middle of the street, staring at the wreckage around them.

"By the way, his name is Thor. Not Donald. He's an Asgardian. Which means that he is an alien-god, seeing as he doesn't come from this planet but is also a god."

Coulson rubbed his forehead. It was a gesture that was very familiar to Clint.

"You're not making a lot of sense, Barton."

Clint shrugged as they headed down the street towards the _thing_.

"I guess I'm not. It's a lot to take in. I'm still trying to sort it out."

By this point, they'd arrived at the place where Thor had brought the metal contraption down. It was still lying there, unmoved and smoking from being struck by lightning who knows how many times. Clint couldn't resist kicking it with the toe of his boot, causing it to clang loudly. Coulson actually jumped and swung around as he reached for his gun, which was evidence of just how exhausted he was. When he saw Clint's innocent look, the skin around his eyes tightened.

"What the hell do you think that you are doing, Barton?"

Clint shrugged.

"Seeing if this one will budge. Maybe you could try picking this 'extra-terrestrial object' up? It might be easier than the last one, seeing that it isn't set into the ground. But if that doesn't work, you could just glare at it."

Coulson's eyes widened, and Clint tried not to laugh. His handler obviously thought that no one had seen him trying to lift the hammer, but Clint saw everything. It had been hilarious, especially when Coulson had given the hammer his best death-glare when it wouldn't budge. Clint had almost died from trying not to laugh out loud.

"If you ever breath a word to anyone about that Barton, I will ground you for the rest of your life."

"Whatever you say, _Son of Coul_."

Coulson suddenly stopped walking around the thing and turned around to glare at Clint with his arms crossed. Clint cowered slightly. The glare that his handler was currently sporting could seriously give Fury's one a run for its money.

"No, just no. That is not on. If you call me that again, I _will_ send you on every single boring surveillance mission that comes up for the next year, as well as grounding you for the rest of your life. You'll be so bored out of your mind that your brain won't work enough to think up ways to annoy me, indefinitely. Consider this the only warning that you will get."

Clint knew that Coulson was at least eighty-percent serious, so he wisely shut up. Surveillance missions were akin to torture. Clint hated them, and Coulson knew it. Plus, he did feel sorry for Coulson. He was currently suffering from a very bad case of Stressed-Handler Syndrome.

Before you ask, yes. Such a thing did exist. At least Clint could truthfully say he wasn't the sole cause if it this time.

Actually, this was probably the first time since starting to work with Coulson that he could say that. That must be some kind of record.

* * *

 _Late that night, less than twenty-four hours since it all began._

Clint sighed in relief as the SHIELD Airbase in Roswell finally came into view below them. There were just him and Coulson in the car, and they hadn't even properly left the outskirts of Puerto Antiguo before his handler had fallen fast asleep in the passenger seat. Clint had just had his music for company. He'd turned it right down so as not to disturb Coulson, and tried to drive as smoothly as possible.

He needn't have worried. Coulson hadn't so much as twitched during the whole drive. Clint was glad about that. It had been an exhausting twenty-four hours, and as far as he was aware his handler hadn't slept that whole time. Clint knew that Phil could go without sleep for days if the situation called for it. Him and Natasha could as well; they had to on multiple occasions after all. But there came a point where they did crash. Clint had been known to sleep for two days straight, and Natasha's record was almost three. That was excluding the multiple times they'd both been drugged by medical for various reasons. When that happened, they could be out for days.

Coulson had wanted to make sure that everything was left exactly how they'd found it out in the desert. They'd hung around the crash site until after the last truck had trundled off and Coulson was satisfied. Then they'd gone and delivered all the equipment back to the scientists.

That had taken several hours. Coulson had insisted on a thorough inventory being taken of every single little thing to ensure it was all there, and he wanted it all checked against the list they'd made before. He wouldn't let any person leave until that was done, in case someone tried to take something back that they shouldn't. Clint had had a silent panic attack when he'd heard that was happening, as the iPod and notebook would not be among the items that were officially returned. The notebook he could claim ignorance over, the iPod he could not.

Fortunately, nothing had been said about it. Clint had wondered why that was the case, until Lewis had spotted him hanging around, and pointed to her ears before winking at him. Clint wasn't sure how she'd done it, but he was extremely grateful that Coulson was apparently none the wiser about what Clint had done.

Eventually, both Coulson and the scientists were satisfied, and they left the town behind. Clint had climbed into the driver's seat of their SUV without saying anything, and Coulson hadn't argued. He was sleep before they'd even passed the city limits. That had been hours ago, and he hadn't stirred since.

It wasn't until they'd entered the compound, and Clint had turned off the car's engine, that he finally stirred. Clint shook him gently.

"Phil, time to wake up. We're here."

His handler opened bleary eyes.

"Clint? Have we arrived?"

Clint rolled his eyes as Coulson sat up rather abruptly, and began straightening imaginary wrinkles in his suit before he was even fully conscious. He'd managed to find time to change into a fresh suit after this morning's fiasco, and so already looked impeccable. But it was such a _Coulson_ thing to do that Clint felt his lips twitch in fond amusement.

"Yeh, we're here. I think they are waiting for you to load that thing. I'll see you on the plane. You can sleep as much as you want on the flight back, so don't fall asleep out there, okay?"

Phil smiled at Clint as he opened the car door.

"I won't. That would ruin my reputation."

Clint grinned.

"The one that says you are a robot; or the one that says you run on batteries?"

"Both. It keeps the newbies on their toes. See you on the jet. Don't forget our bags."

Clint gave a mock salute.

"Sir, no, sir."

Coulson disappeared, and Clint slowly got out of the car. Immediately his senses were assaulted by the hustle and bustle that was atypical of a busy SHIELD Base. Clint let the noise wash over him as he collected his and Coulson's bags from the trunk, and headed towards the huge jet. After almost thirteen years with SHIELD, he was used to it. He heard Coulson's voice quite easily as he passed a little way away from their activities, as the man was using a megaphone to ensure that you _did_ hear him.

"Slow and easy, we don't want to disturb this thing. I said _take it easy_! What do you think you are doing?!"

Cling winced at the tone of Coulson's voice, even though it wasn't being directed at him. Still, his handler was right. They did not want that _thing_ to come back to life. Especially as Thor wasn't here to defeat it this time.

Clint hummed to himself as he carried their things into the jet. He'd actually seen a real-life god! Just wait until he told Natasha. While she'd been stuck babysitting Stark (who only thought he was a god) Clint had been meeting an actual god, and hadn't even been able to tell her about it. Despite SHIELD's phones being supposed to pick up anywhere, they didn't. And the radio interference that hammer had given off hadn't helped.

Consequently, Clint hadn't had any contact with Tash since he'd come out here.

Doing solo missions seriously sucked. It was less than two days since he had last seen his spider, and he already missed her like crazy. Clint knew the official story, that they were being kept apart because they were both so skilled at what they did that it was more economical to split their skill-sets up, was bullshit. He knew the real reason they'd been split up was because their relationship was under scrutiny by the higher-ups.

Almost six damn years of it not being a problem, and they suddenly decided to do an evaluation. Simply because Clint refused to leave the premises of a building when ordered to, because Natasha was injured and needed his help. He'd done it before, and it had never been a problem. With the kind of work they did, when you were out in the field without backup, you didn't leave your partner, no matter what happened. Coulson understood that, and had never put them on report for going back or disobeying orders to save each other. Not that Coulson had ever given them orders that that required them to do that. He trusted them to complete the job regardless of what happened, and had frequently turned a blind eye to rules and regulations being broken in the meantime. Despite his reputation as being a stickler for rules, Coulson had no qualms breaking them as needed.

That idiot who'd replace Coulson as their handler while he was recuperating from being almost blown up six months ago had been completely useless. He hadn't listened to them, and it had almost cost them the mission, not to mention their lives. Clint and Nat had managed to complete it anyway (no thanks to him) but he hadn't liked being ignored. They'd no sooner gotten back to base, and they were suddenly on suspension, and only allowed to do solo missions, while the matter was 'investigated'.

Coulson and Fury had both been livid, but there was nothing either of them could do to reverse anything. The council was involved, which meant politics were involved, and so Strike Team Delta was currently listed as inactive. And, if the council had their way, would probably stay like that for some time. They never had liked Clint and Natasha that much after all. Natasha more so than Clint for some reason. Though Clint understood he wasn't exactly the flavour of the month with them either.

Clint hated politics. And rules and regulations. And deserts, self-proclaimed gods, and tasers. Not to mention being away from Natasha, and not even been able to get in contact with her. Clint just hated everyone and everything at this point in time.

He just wanted to get back to SHIELD's New York Base and see his Tasha again.

* * *

Natasha apparently felt the same way, as she was waiting to meet Clint as soon as he stepped off the jet. As he disembarked she ran towards him, ignoring the looks people were giving them. Clint immediately dropped all his things and swept her off her feet as they hugged each other.

It was a while before they broke apart. When they did, Clint grinned broadly.

"Guess what? I met a real-life god. And watched him fight a bit metal monster that breathed fire and win. It was unreal."

Natasha raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow before leaning down to pick up one of the bags Clint had dropped.

"I fought my way past an army of incompetent goons, and infiltrated the very heart of Hammer Industries. I then blew the building up, after copying the contents of his main computer onto a hard drive. Oh, and I stopped Stark from dying. He's signed onto the Initiative as a consultant."

Clint blinked as he shouldered the other bag.

"It may have only been a few days, but I think that we have a lot of catching up to do. What say we take the next few days off, and go away for some fresh air? The farm sounds pretty good right now. No responsibilities, no worries, and getting to spend some quality time with you."

Natasha grinned, tucking herself under his free arm as they headed indoors.

"That sounds perfect. Plus, we haven't seen _them_ for a while. We can see how they're settling in."

Clint grinned at her.

"Exactly. After everything that has happened lately, I reckon we are owed some time off. Besides, I've got some material we can use to blackmail Coulson into saying yes if he needs some gentle persuasion."

Nat's eyes lit up in glee.

"What is this material?"

* * *

 **THE END.**

 **Possibly of this universe. See notes below.**

 **...**

 **NOTES: Clintasha is love, Clintasha is life. I don't care what people say, I will not let this ship sink.**

 **Even if I stop writing stories in this universe.**

 **Which I am thinking I will do.**

 **One person left a review on chapter one. ONE PERSON. I have a heck of a lot more people following me and reading my stories, yet only ONE took a few minutes out of their twenty-four hours a day to give an author some feedback and say they enjoyed their work.**

 **From this, I draw only one conclusion.**

 **People do not like my writing enough to give it more than a glance over when a new story comes out.**

 **All my hours of hard work and dedication to writing a story are not appreciated.**

 **Therefore, if the people reading it don't care, why should I bother to write anymore?**

 **And it's not just this story. The same thing happened with Fractured Trust. That story took me two-and-a-half-months to write. The feedback I got for it was practically nothing when you consider the amount of effort that went into it.**

 **I am willing to continue writing stories in the CSC Universe. I have a great master-plan that will dig deep into a rich mythology, and explore many different themes. However, I have also drifted slightly away from the MCU in the past couple of years, and it would not be a hardship to never write one of these stories again. Personally, I would prefer to do just that.**

 **Especially as I have now finished university, and am heading out into the real world. Time to write fanfiction will become rarer. When I do write, I want to write things that people will enjoy, and leave me feedback for.**

 **And the CSC Universe does not seem to fulfil that criteria anymore. For whatever reason, it may be time to lay this universe to rest.**

 **Either way, I am taking an indefinite break from CSC for now. I have not yet made a definitive decision as to whether I stop writing these stories permanently or not.**

 **Right now, I am more than ready to end it. Maybe develop some of my ideas into original stories one day, where they might be appreciated more.**

 **But there are a couple of people out there who have given me lovely feedback over time. These people are the reason I don't just drop it right now.**

 **The future of the CSC Universe hangs in the balance.**

 **The next move is yours.**


End file.
